


Idle Hands

by MusicalFangirl00193



Series: National Days [77]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A couple of new head cannons in here, For National Hobby Month, Gen, I need to decide what exactly my Sherlock cannon is for my Hamish 'verse, M/M, Spot the angsty crossover, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalFangirl00193/pseuds/MusicalFangirl00193
Summary: Everyone needs a hobby, even Kingsmen





	Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> For National Hobby Month
> 
> Also, a friend and I have started a Harry Potter/Kingsman fusion fic that'll be mostly gen because she doesn't like Hartwin and I only barely managed to talk her into Percilot. Anyway, the first chapter of that is up, but if you don't think that's your cup of tea, I'm actually going to be posting my own Harry Potter/Kingsman fusion fic in a while, so you can also read that if you'd like. But at least give this first one a shot, it's gonna be pretty good.

Harry’s butterflies are everywhere, if you know where to look. Obviously they are in his downstairs bathroom, but there are also small butterflies on the back of some of his favorite ties, on a pair of socks he has shoved in the back of his sock drawer, and in the pattern of what he calls his ‘fine china,’ even though everything in his house is so much nicer than anything Eggsy has ever owned before, and even anything he owns now, but he thinks that may have more to do with the fact that Eggsy still lives in a house with his baby sister.

So it isn’t that odd to find Harry pouring over some article about a new species of butterfly that’s been discovered in the rainforest or something like that. When Harry gives Daisy a dress with butterflies on it and hair clips to match for her birthday, nobody thinks twice about it, especially since Daisy absolutely loves it. But when Eggsy is putting on his new suit, one Harry had commissioned for him, and he finds a small butterfly embroidered in the silk that will be resting against his chest, well, then Eggsy knows exactly what that means. The butterfly-shaped cufflinks and matching tie pin are just icing on the cake.

* * *

Eggsy finds the gym by accident. On his days off, few and far between since he’s joined Kingsman, he likes to wander parts of the city that he wasn’t able to back when he still lived with Dean. So one day, after lunch but before he has to go pick Daisy up from preschool, he finds it. It’s small, nothing fancy, but it’s out of the way, it has everything he needs, and it’s open 24 hours a day.

He goes back the next day, having at least a month off to recover from a six-month long mission in Russia, dressed in his gym clothes, going through several stretches before starting one of the last routines he had learned as a child. The movements, repeated so often when he was nine years old, still come easily to him.

“You’re good,” a woman’s voice commented when he finished his routine, just barely breathing hard. “That routine looks absolutely ancient though.”

“It was the only thing I could think of,” Eggsy admitted, grabbing his water bottle and drinking at least half of it in one go. “I...well, the last time I was in a proper gym, I was nine years old.”

“Wow,” the woman said with a low whistle. “And you’re what now? Twenty, twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two, actually,” he admitted, “I found this place last week and decided to see if I still had it.”

“You do,” the woman said instantly. “You definitely do. If that’s you thirteen years rusty, I’d love to see you at full strength.”

“You might,” Eggsy said, “I’ve got a bit off work, so I think I’ll start making regular appearances here.”

“I guess I’ll see you around,” the woman smiled. “My name’s Maggie.”

“Oh, I’m Eggsy,” he said, holding out a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you too, Eggsy,” Maggie said with a bright smile.

* * *

There’s a violin in Merlin’s office. Everyone knows not to mention the Stradivarius, even on the days when Merlin won’t acknowledge anyone for staring at it.

One night, Eggsy comes in late from a mission that had run longer than expected. He had planned on being home for dinner, but instead, it looked like his evening was going to be a debrief with Merlin and maybe getting home in time to tuck Daisy in. He stops just outside the office, trying to make out the sound that’s just barely coming through the cracked door.

It’s violin music, he realizes after listening for a minute, nothing he’s ever heard before, and more emotional than a piece of music has any right to be. He quietly makes his way to the door and peers through the crack to see Merlin standing in the middle of the room, violin tucked under his chin, playing the music Eggsy had heard from the doorway. 

He listens for a moment longer, as the music winds down to the end. Merlin lowers the violin, putting it back on its stand before turning to face the door. “I know you’re there, Eggsy,” Merlin says, voice tired. “You can come back for your debrief in the morning, it’s late.”

Eggsy nods mutely, turning to leave and return to the house he shared with Harry. “Hey, Merlin?” Eggsy said before he left the hallway. “That was really good music you were playing.”

“My father composed it,” Merlin responded. “This is his violin. Was, his violin,” he corrected with a visible wince.

Eggsy nodded once. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“10 o’clock, sharp.”

“Yes, sir.”

After that, whenever Eggsy was on a mission late at night, he’d almost swear he could hear violin music over the comms in his glasses.

* * *

“Made this for you,” Roxy said, all but throwing a pillow at Eggsy’s head. The only reason he was able to catch it was because Daisy had decided that throwing things was one of the most exciting things to do as well and his already quick reflexes had improved greatly over the past weeks.

When he looked down at the pillow she had thrown at his head. “Did you make this?” he asked, smiling at the words stitched across the surface.

“Yep,” she said with a smile. “Got the idea off of Pinterest. You like it?”

“‘Behold!’” Eggsy read off the pillow he was holding. “‘The field in which I grow my fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it and see that it is barren.’” He quirked an eyebrow at it. “This is great, Rox, didn’t know you did stuff like this.”

“It was a good way for Dad and Pop to keep me from destroying the house when I was a kid,” she shrugged. “Keeps me from destroying my flat now.”

“Nice. Thanks for this, Rox.”

“Of course,” Roxy said with a smile. “I’m doing one for Daisy next.”

“Not too many curse words, please. I’d like to keep her relatively innocent for a while yet.”

“No promises.”

Daisy’s pillow says ‘I do not spew profanities. I enunciate them clearly, like a fucking lady.’

Eggsy feels this is about as good as he’s going to get out of Roxy, he has never heard anyone curse quite as creatively as her when she wants to.

It’s really pretty though.

* * *

The walls of Roxy’s apartment were lined with bookshelves, filled with books of all types. There was one shelf, however, that stood out to Eggsy for some reason. He looked them over for a long moment as he waited for Roxy to return from the bathroom.

“What are you so interested in?” Roxy asked when she returned to the living room, standing next to Eggsy to see the shelf he was looking at. “Oh,” she said, voice quiet when she saw the book in his hands. “I...I haven’t read these ones in a while.”

“You look upset about that,” Eggsy commented, putting the book back on the shelf. “What’s up?”

Roxy took another book off the shelf, the first one on the top shelf. She opened the book to the title page, fingers running over the inscription written there. “My poppa wrote these books,” she finally murmured. “He always had a knack for storytelling, and so he wrote these. This entire shelf here,” she tapped the shelf, right under the window, twice as wide as the other shelves to make up for its squat nature. “Was written by him.”

Eggsy looked over the titles even closer, noting a few that were familiar to him. “Wish I’d gotten a chance to meet him,” he murmured quietly as Roxy returned the book in her hand to the shelf.

“I wish you had too,” Roxy agreed. “You two would have gotten on like a house on fire.”

“So I’ve heard.”

* * *

“I think your father is colorblind,” Eggsy said bluntly to Roxy, looking at the canvas in front of him. “Who else could think those colors looked good together?”

“He tries his best,” Roxy sighed, taking a long drink of her wine. “Honestly, whoever put this exhibition together needs to be shot. This isn’t even the worst painting in here.”

“How much longer do we have to stay?”

“Just an hour longer,” Roxy assured him.

“Thank God.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, not British, and I don't own Kingsman


End file.
